


I Will Go Down With This Ship

by Chicken_Nuggets800



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016), Teen Wolf (TV), The Umbrella Academy (TV), youtube - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Everyone Needs A Hug, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, MY GAY BABIES, Sad Ending, no beta we die like men, one shots, ships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2019-10-20 13:46:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17623508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chicken_Nuggets800/pseuds/Chicken_Nuggets800
Summary: Basically I wrote the clichés that I wanted to read. This is a random book of one shots for all of my ships, so if you don't like a ship, either just skip ahead or don't read this. Thanks.





	1. I See What's Mine And Take It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murdoc and MacGyver are forced (or so they like to think) to share a bed.
> 
> Give or take 5000 words

_I'm taking back the crown_

_I'm all dressed up and naked_

_I see what's mine and take it_

_(Finders keepers, losers weepers)_

_Oh yeah_

_The crown, s_ _o close I can taste it_

_I see what's mine and take it_

_(Finders keepers, losers weepers)_

_Oh yeah._

 

-

 

"What?" The word rang sharp and demandingly through the otherwise peaceful lobby. It was quite unnecessary as everyone had already heard the polite woman at the front desk very clearly. She gave the imposing man a patient, if not nervous smile.

"I'm afraid we only have two rooms left available, sir." Everyone fell amusingly quiet, quick glances being shared between the three Phoenix foundation members with no attempt at hiding their silent conversation. Feeling eyes on him, Murdoc shifted his own gaze back at the perpetrator. A smug smile tugged at his lips when he found their very own boy genius MacGyver staring back at him, with that oh so _delightful_ look on his face. As if he was thinking about what invention he could make to get them out of this predicament.

"It'll be fine." He finally decided for them. Jack opened his mouth, obviously about to protest profusely, but MacGyver silenced him with a single look. He turned back to the receptionist, a friendly smile appearing on his face. "We'll take them." He told her. Glancing to the side, Murdoc came face to face with an angry Jack Dalton practically burning a hole into his face with his severe glare.

"What?" He asked coyly, his expression and tone suddenly innocent enough that even butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. "Do I have something on my face?"

He pointed a finger at him, his face only darkening. "You're on thin fuckin' ice, 'doc." He stabbed his finger into his chest roughly, but Murdoc simply tilted his head to the side, seeming to be not at all fazed by the threat. "And don't you forget it." If his hands hadn't been handcuffed behind his back, he probably would've broken his finger for that.

"Well maybe it's time to break through the ice, don't you think?" He responded casually, eyes lighting up with a cold malice that his smile did nothing to cover up in the slightest. And by the way Jack squirmed under his gaze and lowered his finger again, the look seemed to work. For the moment, at least. But Murdoc counted it as a victory nonetheless.

"Guys come on, let's go." The only female in their little rag tag group interrupted them. Riley exchanged a few pleasantries with the other woman that he paid no attention to while MacGyver and Jack took up their positions, the first at his side and the latter just behind the two of them, creating a wall of bodies to hide the fact that he was handcuffed. He felt a warm hand take ahold of his arm and start tugging him forward, which he complied with easily. At least the two of them weren't being overly aggressive at the moment.

But while it _was_ always entertaining to see MacGyver embrace his more violent side rather than his usual no killing-and rather boring-ways, he'd prefer that the violence wasn't aimed at himself. It wasn't as much fun when it was.

But oh, what he'd give to see MacGyver kill for the first time... To see the moment he _realizes_ that he had just taken a life... Ah, but he knows those are just meaningless fantasies that will never become reality. A disappointing thought, if ever he'd had one.

"Are these really necessary?" He asked, shrugging his shoulders as an indication to the cuffs around his wrists. "After all, I'm only here to help you. What's the _worst_ that could happen?"

"You could kill us all." Riley deadpanned.

He sighed heavily, overexaggeraring his joking disapproval. "Riley. Always the pessimist." He looked over his shoulder and gave her a disappointing shake of his head, to which Jack gave a smack to the back of his head. Ah, _there's_ that violence he was thinking about.

"We'll stop being pessimists when you prove that you're not going to kill us all in our sleep." MacGyver spoke up again, giving him a pointed look, to which he just smiled patronizingly at.

"If I wanted to kill you, I would have done so the very moment you brought me out of my cell. You know better than most what I'm capable of, Angus." To his pleasant surprise, MacGyver kept looking at him the entire time he spoke, but the grip on his arm tightening fractionally. Most wouldn't notice the slight change in his expression, the slight tension that appeared in the very way he walked, but Murdoc could read the genius like a book. Albeit a fascinating book at that. "Don't concern yourself too much about it. I told you I'd help you, didn't I?"

"You'll have to excuse me for not trusting you so easily. Wasn't it you who said, and I believe I quote, 'You make a deal with the devil, did you really think it was going to be fair?'"

Murdoc's smile dropped slightly at that, and it was Macgyver's turn to look satisfied by his reaction. All right. He will admit, Angus had him there. It wasn't often that someone got the best of him-physically or otherwise, but he wasn't surprised in the slightest that MacGyver was the one to do so. It was... Impressive, to say the least. And definitely entertaining. He already knew that this mission was definitely going to be enjoyable, despite him being treated like a rabid dog ready to snap at any given moment by the others.

"These are our rooms." Riley said, stopping the three of them midway down the passageway, identical doors on either side of the plain walls dotting the _far_ too boring stretch of hallway. The only way they could be differentiated was by the small, shiny numbers that were nailed onto each door. She unlocked the door with one of the two keys she held, obviously given to her by the receptionist. She opened the door and Jack wasted no time in shoving him in the room roughly. He didn't say anything about it, but his eyes narrowed slightly in clear displeasure as he turned around again to look at the agents.

"Oh hell no!" Jack exclaimed, looking around in an almost horrified way. What? Murdoc followed his gaze, wondering what could pull such a reaction from him. It immediately clicked as he looked around the room.

There was only one bed.

"Well isn't this funny." His lips curved upwards slightly once again. He absently wondered who would be willing to share a room with him now.

"This is ridiculous, I'm gonna go talk to-"

"Jack, leave it." Ever the voice of reason, MacGyver put a hand on his friend's chest, stopping him from storming out of the room like he had obviously been planning to.

"But Mac-"

"Jack." They traded a silent conversation once again with their eyes alone. A battle of wills. Angus seemed to win, because Jack huffed and pulled away, looking slightly defeated. "You and Riley can take the other room. I'll stay here with Murdoc."

"Don't be stupid, Mac. You go with Riley, _I'll_ stay with Mr. Creepy." Jack protested immediately.

"Should I feel flattered?" He wondered out loud. The very expressions he got in return was definitely worth his offhand comment.

Jack grasped MacGyver's shoulder and steered him out of the room. Obviously a poor attempt to keep Murdoc from listening in on them. He could still hear their conversation, even if faintly. But they didn't need to know that.

"Are you outta your mind?" Jack hissed, glancing towards where he and Riley were standing momentarily. Had his hands not been cuffed, he would've given him a cheeky wave. "You are _not_ gonna be sharing a room with him!"

"And what would be the better option here, huh? _You_? You'd kill him before the night is even over. I can guarantee it."

"Does it really matter if I do?" MacGyver gave him a stern, if not exasperated look, and Jack held his hands up in surrender. "All right fine, point made."

"I'm the best choice here, Jack. We both know it."

"I know, I know, it's just..." He hesitated and his voice lowered even further, to the extent where he had to strain his ears to hear the usually loud and boisterous man. "You know how he can get into your head. He's done it before, what's gonna stop him from doing it again?"

Murdoc could get into his head? Well that was nice to know.

"I can handle him." He promised firmly, lips quirking upwards slightly in a reassuring smile. "Besides, I can take care of myself too."

Jack exhaled slowly, running his hands through his short hair. "Okay. I don't like it, but okay."

Murdoc didn't even bother pretending like he didn't hear everything as they walked back to them. "How very exciting. MacGyver and I are having a sleepover!"

Jack made a move towards him threateningly, but Angus held an arm out in front of his chest, stopping him in his place. "It's just for one night." He promised, looking between the two of them individually. "It'll be fine."

Jack and Riley shared dubious looks, but neither of them argued against him. It was weirdly transparent how in charge Angus was. The leader of their little team. At least out in the field he was. They all listened to him without question. Doubt yes, but question, no. It was cute, really.

"You sure about this, Mac?" Riley asked hesitantly, dark eyes flickering towards him warily. Murdoc only shrugged at her in response. She curled her lip distastefully at him.

"I'm sure. Don't worry." MacGyver said. It was rather surprising to see him so confident in this decision of his. After all, he knew of his capabilities. He knew just how skilled he was in the art of killing.

And that's what it was to him. There was nothing more beautiful and more meaningful than death. Especially by _his_ hand.

Riley hesitated for a moment, before nodding sharply and leaving the room without another word. Jack followed her, but stopped at the door and looked back at them. "If you even think about trying anything-"

"Have a little faith, Jack." Murdoc chastised him. That only seemed to irritate him more, funnily enough. He slammed the door shut behind him, the string of muffled swears that came through it slowly fading away as he went across to the other room. _Finally_ they're gone. "Alone again at last, MacGyver." Angus didn't even grace him with a reply. Rude.

He made his way around the relatively small room slowly, checking all the possible entrances and making sure all the windows were locked. The agent was taking unecessary precautions though, no one besides them and Madison knew of their whereabouts. But, Murdoc _could_ appreciate his careful attentiveness to details. After all, the smallest thing could result in worse case scenarios. He knew that from personal experience, unfortunately.

He took this time to look around the room, dark eyes flitting over every object slowly. It was definitely smaller than an average hotel room. Most of the area was taken up by a large, pale coloured king bed, twin bedside tables on either side of it. There was a TV hanging on one wall with two chairs facing it, and from what he could see from where he stood, there was an adjoining bathroom. That was pretty much the extent of the room. Plain and simple, but he quite liked it that way. There wasn't even a couch.

Angus finished the miniature perimeter check quickly and went to the door, locking it with the key. He didn't know when Riley had given it to him, but he honestly didn't care about that insignificant fact.

"Done inspecting everything?" He asked, a slightly teasing lilt to his voice.

MacGyver finally turned to look at him, expression guarded and posture tense. It was all too obvious that he felt uncomfortable being alone with him. Unsurprising, but still amusing.

"For now." He answered.

He licked his lips absentmindely, rolling his shoulders with the limited amount of room the cuffs allowed him move in. "Are you planning on taking these off any time soon? It's a bit difficult to sleep with my hands behind my back all night."

"I'm sure you'll manage." Came his only response.

His eyebrows furrowed together in an expression of fake disappointment, almost pouting. "Oh come _on_ , MacGyver. Don't make me have to ask again."

MacGyver hesitated for a moment, but ultimately gave in and approached him slowly. "All right. Consider this an act of kindness."

"But of course, what else would it be?" He got a glare in return for his casual sarcasm.

"If you try anything-"

"Don't worry your pretty little head about that. Dalton already covered that threat for you." For his insolence, MacGyver was overly rough when unlocking his handcuffs, jerking his arms backwards slightly. While it wasn't too painful, it did unbalance him, and he didn't like that unsteady feeling one bit.

"Well maybe it didn't quite get through to you." He responded simply, stepping away again. Murdoc finally brought his arms out from behind his back, rolling his wrists and shoulders. There was a cold sense of relief on his skin from not have the cuffs on anymore, his wrists slightly red from the pressure and his shoulders stiff from being in the same position for hours. He didn't dare show it though. Instead he just adjusted the long sleeves of the black shirt he wore. It was the same type that he usually reserved for missions only.

"About time." He only complained, not hesitating to make a move towards the bed. He knew that it was already late into the night, and if he wanted to be awake enough the next day to do what they wanted-and by wanted he meant was forced-him to do, then he should get some rest now already. He definitely knew the advantages of having enough sleep, especially in his line of work.

He sat on the edge of the bed, allowing his slender fingers to run over the smooth blanket that covered it. It was soft and slightly fluffy beneath his finger pads. Pleasant and warm to the touch. Dark eyes flicked up to see what MacGyver was doing. "You know, there is enough room on here for two." He told him conversationally, tone casual, but teasing. Angus only frowned in his direction briefly, then went on looking around. Clearly trying to think of something so that he didn't have to sleep on the floor. "I do get it though, MacGyver. After all, I'm sure many people are too afraid to share a bed with an assassin."

"I'm not afraid." To his amusement, the agent actually spoke up again, his voice hard and his expression even harder as he tried to stare him down. Of course _that_ was what made him talk.

Murdoc licked his lips slowly. "Oh?" His mouth twitched upwards into a daring, challenging smile and his head cocked to the side. He simply wanted to get a rise out of Angus. And from what he could read from him, he was getting exactly what he wanted. "Then prove it." It was definitely amusing to watch his expression throughout this.

The air between them thickened with crackling tension, clear blue eyes and deep brown eyes not breaking contact for even a moment, each of them fearing that if they did, they would lose the silent contest. Both of them too stubborn to back down.

MacGyver clenched his jaw, something akin to defiance shining in his gaze. "Fine."

Murdoc blinked a few times and his eyebrows rose up slightly, for once unable to keep the surprise from showing on his face. He could safely say that he hadn't expected MacGyver to actually go for his bait. But, he wasn't about to protest against his choice, his smile only widening smugly. "Well this just got a whole lot more interesting." He should've known that Angus wouldn't back down so easily. It was what impressed him so much about him. His unpredictableness. His ability to adapt to any situation to get out on top of his enemies.

Murdoc loved it.

It always kept him on his toes in the best way possible.

No one else was ever able to do that, except for MacGyver. It was delightful. So much so that he looked forward to every time the two of them met, no matter the circumstance. It was even more fun currently however, seeing as they were on a 'mission' together. The mission being him forced to help them track down a former associate of his, in return for a visit with Cassian. A fair trade in his eyes.

The first time they had ever met, he had launched a wine bottle at him. A _wine bottle_! Who did that?! _Him_ , apparently. He impressed him. So much so that the mere thought of anyone else killing him made him see red.

He was _his_. No one else's. No one was was allowed to touch a single hair on his head, except for him.

To kill, of course. That's obviously all he meant by it.

He watched, eyes shining with an almost predatory gleam as the genius started walking towards the bed, still not chickening out yet. But there was still time. There was still plenty of time. He reached out a hand and patted the bed, silently beckoning him forward.

MacGyver didn't seem to like being called like some kind of animal, judging by the way his eyes narrowed and his hands clenched into fists, but he still perched himself at the edge of the bed, never taking his eyes off of him. Murdoc meanwhile was practically glowing at the thought of a challenge.

"You worry too much, MacGyver. I'm not going to hurt you." Not now, at least. There was a bit too much at stake currently. He drew a finger over his chest dramatically. "Cross my nonexistent heart and hope to die."

Weirdly enough, that _didn't_ put him at ease. Who would've thought?

"This is just for one night." He clarified, doubt clouding his voice. It was absolutely delightful how he could make the usually so self-assured man hesitant.

"One night."

"And _no one_ can know about this."

"My lips are sealed." When MacGyver didn't continue, he assumed that he was done talking and turned his back to him. He slipped off his black coat and leather gloves, setting them down neatly on the bedside table, before getting his shoes off as well. While sleeping in pants wasn't always extremely comfortable, he was used to it by now. More often than not, he never had time to get into more comfortable clothes, so he had to make do with sleeping in whatever he wore.

He could hear MacGyver shifting from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing him doing the same and taking his jacket off-although definitely more apprehensive about doing so-through the corner of his eye. It seemed he had the same line of thought as he did, since he didn't take anything else off, besides his shoes.

Murdoc pulled the blanket up and slid into bed, sighing happily. It had been a while since he had been able to sleep in a proper bed, and not on those hard and uncomfortable ones that he was getting much too used to in prison. He snuggled under it until only his head and shoulders were peaking out, eyes already closed. "Be a dear and get the lights." He drawled, his words sounding more like a command than anything else, even to his own ears.

A huff came from the other side of the bed, followed by light footsteps. "Are you always this demanding?"

Murdoc squinted an eye open to look towards him and his mouth stretched into a lazy smile, revealing his pearly whites. "Why of course I am."

Angus shook his head, although he looked more exasperated than irritated. "Should've known..."

Murdoc shut his eyes again when the lights switched off, bathing the room in shadows and darkness. A few moments later he felt the bed dip and heard the rustling of the duvet as MacGyver covered himself up on the other side of the bed. He turned onto his side so that he had his back to him, squashing his pillow around a bit to get it comfortable enough for his liking.

Everything was peacefully silent for a few moments, until Angus started doing... _Something_. He frowned and looked over his shoulder to see what he was doing, before almost laughing at what he saw. Boy genius was stacking up the extra pillows between them like he was building a wall. "You're not serious, are you? Do you really think that a pillow wall is going to protect you?" He asked, barely able to keep his amusement from his voice.

He received a glare in return. "Shut up."

At that he actually did laugh, settling down again while the other man did the same. "Goodnight, MacGyver." He said cheerfully. When there was silence from the other end, he resigned himself to the fact that he wasn't going to get a response from his favourite agent. Disappointing, but not at all surprising.

Just as he was drifting off to sleep, he heard the quiet voice speak up. Barely audible, but still definitely there.

"Goodnight, Murdoc."

It made him smile.

-

Murdoc didn't know what time it was when he woke up again. He just knew that he was cold. Really cold. The heavy weight of the duvet was gone and the slight breeze that washed over him was bitterly cold. Unpleasant enough that it actually woke him up. Where was the wind even coming from? All the windows had been closed.

He blindly groped around with a hand for the blanket, a frustrated grunt escaping his throat when he found nothing. He tossed over onto his other side, finally cracking his eyes open and sitting up to look for it. Where the hell was-

_Oh._

He blinked a few times, almost completely awake at this point, but still not quite believing his eyes.

MacGyver was hogging all the blankets.

The pillows that had blocked them off from each other were nowhere to be seen, they must've thrown them off during the night. MacGyver lay on his side, swaddled in the covers and clinging to an armful like a koala. Murdoc didn't know what to think. Well, he did, but he was still surprised. He had thought that MacGyver was the kind of guy that would want his space while sleeping. But hey, it's not like he spent a lot of time chasing _that_ particular train of thought.

He shivered at a particularly cold burst of air, sending MacGyver a halfhearted glare for getting him into this predicament. He wasn't even wearing a shirt anymore. He must've gotten too hot at some point during the night and taken it off. Now _that's_ not fair.

He had to go cold because Angus stole all of the blankets? Oh absolutely _not_. He refused to remain freezing because of such a trivial matter.

He tugged on the edge of the covers, trying to get more again. It barely budged. With a huff he gave in to his need to be warm and begrudgingly moved closer to him. As soon as he slipped under the comfort of the blanket again, heat seeped into his bones from the warm body lying next to him.

It was... Surprisingly pleasant. Not that he'd ever admit that to anyone but himself.

He lay back down, before tensing as MacGyver stirred. His breathing was still deep and even, but his eyelids fluttered. Thankfully he didn't do anything except turn over onto his side though, facing Murdoc.

He hesitated again, then shook his head and shifted his body to be fully under the covers. Even if that meant having to press himself against him lightly. He froze when Angus moved closer to him, automatically leaning in towards the heat of his body.

And if he didn't mind how nice it felt to have him curled up into his side, well... No one had to know.

This time around, sleep found him much quicker.

-

The next time he woke up was with a jolt. He blearily looked around, wondering what had woken him up, when his eyes landed on the figure tossing and turning next to him, bumping into him every time he did. He was making soft sounds that he thought were noises of distress.

Concern lanced through him briefly and he pushed himself up until he was sitting, eyebrows creasing together. Was he having a nightmare? Then again, what else could it be?

He hesitated, unsure of what to do. He'd never been in a situation like this before. Should he wake him up? Leave him be?

MacGyvers face darkened into a frown, his breathing uneven and his chest hitching occasionally. When he let out a particularly worrisome whimper, Murdoc gave in to his urge and reached out, tentatively pressing his hand against his shoulder.

He did _not_ get the response he was hoping for.

Instead his eyes snapped open and he lurched upwards, causing him to flinch back at the sudden change. He kept a wary eye on the trembling figure, fingers clawing at the covers around them blindly and his eyes half-lidded and unseeing. Obviously still in a state of delirious sleep, despite his agitated appearance.

His eyes were glassy and glazed over with sparkling tears, shining in the dark like crystal beacons, beautiful in a miserable and twisted way.

Once again he tried to reach out, this time even more apprehensively. "MacGyver?" He didn't stir at the sound of his name, but he shuddered violently, clutching handfuls of the blanket in a white knuckled grasp. He continued to move his arm forward, slowly and cautiously, as if approaching a wild animal of some kind. "Angus?" He asked again quietly, taking a chance and brushing his slender fingers through his hair.

That seemed to do the trick, as Angus slumped down slightly, the tense line of his shoulders disappearing and his body relaxing as if he had just had a shot of morphine.

Murdoc did it again, corners of his lips twitching upwards when he found him leaning into the gentle touch. It was... Cute. Cute in a way a puppy or kitten is cute when they want attention.

He continued his ministrations until he had the other man practically strung across him, his bare back pressing against his chest and his head nestling in the crook of his neck. His eyes drooped lower slowly until they were closed entirely.

He wanted to hold his breath, entirely unsure of what to do now. He just settled with not moving, not wanting to wake him up. He let out a slow exhale, soothingly stroking his fingers through his hair. He continued even when his breathing had evened out and his expression had softened.

Eventually the warm body in his arms and the faint breathing that matched his own lulled him into a peaceful slumber. The best sleep he's had in years, in fact. Not that he'd ever let anyone know.

-

Morning found them tangled in each other's arms and legs, the sun peaking through the curtains and into the privacy of their room, golden streaks shining through the air. Surprisingly soft hair tickled across Murdoc's cheek as he stirred. He wasn't sure if the feeling was annoying or pleasant. Maybe a bit of both?

Warmth spread satisfyingly throughout his body, a comforting weight on his chest and his mind put at ease for once. He honestly couldn't remember when last he felt this relaxed. Until he felt something shifting on him.

He cracked his eyes open slightly, vision blurry for a few moments as he tried to wake up fully. He stared at the ceiling, dark eyes drifting over the bumps and ridges lazily. Again he felt movement and this time he lifted his head, staring uncomprehensively at the head full of hair that his eyes met. MacGyver's chest pressed flush against his own, the heat from his skin seeping through the material of his shirt like a delightful hot water bottle. His head rested on his collarbone, eyelashes dark against his cheeks.

Oh.

So _that's_ what he had been feeling.

The events of the previous night hit him full on, reminding him of what had happened in a mocking series of feelings and sights. He felt the urge to pull the hand that was resting on his bare back away, but he couldn't find the strength to do so. Not just yet at least, in case it woke the agent up. He didn't know why, but he just couldn't stand that thought.

He looked so... Peaceful. Soft. Open. So unlike the usual hard, confident facade he wore like a mask. He could feel his heart gently beating in time with his own, slow and steady like a clock, ticking to a constant rhythm. He found that he quite liked it.

The arms around his waist tightened slightly as MacGyver stirred again, a sigh like breath coming from him. Obviously slowly waking up as well. But he didn't open his eyes just yet. He only nuzzled against Murdoc's neck with a sleepy hum. Again the assassin got the impression of being around an affectionate puppy, the thought bringing a soft smile to his face.

Another groan came from him as he finally opened his eyes, blue clouded over with the bleariness that came from a good night's sleep and an uncomprehending expression on his face.

Almost within an instant the look was wiped away and he tilted his head up, gaze becoming sharp in only a few seconds as light and dark eyes met each other. The two stared for a few moments, both of them wanting to, but neither of them making a single move towards each other.

Something in their gazes changed, barely noticeable, but still there. Something neither of them could quite identify, but both finding a calming sense of recognition in it.

And the next second it was gone again and MacGyver was pulling away. He pushed himself off of Murdoc and sat upright, avoiding his eyes entirely. It left a cold, empty feeling where he had been lying, one that he almost groaned disappointedly at.

He watched silently as the agent practically fled to the bathroom, grabbing his shirt on the way and almost slamming the door behind him.

Well... That ended well.

This time he did sigh as he slowly pushed himself into a sitting position. The muted sound of water flowing came from the bathroom, splashing and dripping noises drifting through the air. The shower running, obviously.

Likely to try and wash the feeling of them pressed together like lovers tangled in each other's arms off of his body and out of his mind. In fact, Murdoc was tempted to do the same as well.

The warmth and the heavy-yet comfortable-pressure stayed on his body like an imprint, not fading even after minutes had passed. It was... Disconcerting, but rather pleasant for reasons he couldn't quite explain.

He paused for a moment, noticing with a start that his shirt smelt like the other man. It was weird, considering the fact that he never allowed himself to get close to anyone long enough for something like that to happen.

He quite liked it though. It made him feel nice and warm inside.

Not that he would ever admit it.

But by the time MacGyver was back, they had both silently come to the decision that they would act like the intimacy they shared that night never happened.

They still knew that something between them had changed. It was in the way that they looked at each other, knowing gazes and secret smiles shared between them, ones that the others often caught, but never thought it important enough to mention.

It was in the way they felt about each other, the slight brush of their shoulders when they walked together, the way they spoke to each other, all teasing comments veiling hidden meanings and soft whispers told to each other in the times they were alone.

Both of them tip toeing around a line they didn't even know about, but never quite crossing it.

And when word reaches the Phoenix foundation a week later saying that Murdoc has escaped their custody once again... Well, MacGyver just can't bring himself to be angry.


	2. I Need A Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles finds himself in a bit of trouble. Lucky for him, a saviour appears.
> 
> Give or take 3000 words

_I need a hero_

_I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night_

_He's gotta be fast and he's gotta be strong_

_And he's gotta be fresh from the fight_

_I need a hero_

_I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light_

_He's gotta be sure and it's gotta be soon_

_And he's gotta be larger than life._

_-_

 

_'No. No no no no no. This isn't happening. No. No no no. Definitely not. I'm not that unlucky. I can't be, right? This is all just some bad dream that I'm gonna wake up from at any moment.'_

He tried it again.

Nothing.

"Fuck." The swear word blurted out of his mouth, expression horrified, yet almost resigned in a grim, tired sort of way.

He twisted the door handle roughly, jiggling the door as much as he could with his one hand, the other gripping the material wrapped tightly around his waist.

Of course _he'd_ get into this kind of mess. After all, he was Stiles Stilinski. The man with _the_ worst luck in the world. Hell, what else could he expect for a guy with a name that people can't even pronounce?

But this... This was just ridiculous.

Locked in his own bathroom, with no way out other than the jammed door.

What. Fucking. Luck.

He gritted his teeth, taking a few steps back as he looked around slowly. The bathroom was still thick with steam from his shower that made breathing deeply hard and his body feel even wetter than it already was in the damp heat. When he glanced over, he noticed the mirror was fogged up, revealing only a blurred outline of his head and bare chest. He was rather glad about that, though. He didn't exactly want to look at his own stupid face right now. He didn't even have his phone or his clothes with him! Like an absolute idiot, he had left it in his room.

Sure he hadn't expected _this_ of all things to happen, but still... With him, he should've known better. Should've decided not to leave his phone on his bed, and instead bring it with him. Should've given in to his urge to play music while he showered just to sing along with it, off key and at the top of his lungs like he usually did. But no, today he decided not to.

Ah, karma. Thou art a cruel, heartless bitch. One with a twisted and wicked sense of humour. And while Stiles generally loved to watch karma play out and torment its victims, now was not one of those times, now that he was the unfortunate prey stuck in its trap.

Did he deserve this?

Probably.

Would he admit it?

Abso-fucking-lutely not.

Maybe it was the few too many times he had been naughty in class and bad mouthed an irritating teacher. Maybe it was because he had accidentally gotten himself and his best friend, Scott, fired from the restaurant the two of them had used to work at. Or maybe it was because he downloaded too many songs illegally. Who knows? Not him, that's for sure.

Making sure that the towel would stay in its place around his waist, he let go of it so that his hands were free. He'd probably need both of them for this. He looked down at his arms, almost wincing. He wasn't... He wouldn't call himself skinny or scrawny per se, but...

Oh who the hell was he kidding? He was a twig in a human's body.

But, he _was_ stubborn. Stubborn enough to make up for his lack of brawn. And smart enough too. He could do this.

He took a step back, bracing himself, before surging forward. He slammed into the door shoulder first, resulting in a loud thud, the door shaking on its hinges and pain shooting through his arm. But little else happened.

A hiss escaped his lips and he clutched at his throbbing shoulder protectively, staggering back again. " _Fuck_ that was a bad idea..." He moaned, already mourning the fact that he was going to get a huge bruise from that. Then again, at least he hadn't dislocated his shoulder.

He'd done it before when he was a little kid, and it was not pleasant, to say the least. He'd had to wear a sling and had cried about it for hours to his mom.

So... Breaking the door down was definitely out of the question. Maybe he could get the screws out of the handle? Well, it was worth a try, at least.

Adjusting his towel, he knelt down on the floor in front of the door, almost wincing at the feeling of the icy cold tiles against his still warm legs. This was going to take a _long_ time.

-

"Ow." He whined childishly, sticking his finger in his mouth, as if that was going to take the pain away. Or maybe that was just for burns... Oh well. He could hope.

The tips of his fingers were raw and scratched up, and he'd only managed to get two nails out before he had to give up. Well... One and a bit, if he was being honest. His nails, as unkempt as they already were, had broken in a few places unpleasantly while he had been scratching out the small metal objects.

"Okay..." He sighed and slumped down on the toilet, running his slightly trembling fingers through his still damp hair. "So _that_ didn't work either..."

He was running out of options, and fast. He'd go insane being stuck in the same room for much longer. Already the silence seemed to echo around and bounce off of the walls obnoxiously, filling his head with the overbearing sound of nothingness. And for Stiles, someone who loved being around people and socializing-even if he wasn't particularly good at it, this was torture.

With no windows and no means of getting out by himself, his only hope was to get into contact with someone outside and get help. He lived in a block of apartments, it shouldn't be too difficult to get someone's attention, right?

-

He was wrong. He was so very very wrong. Almost an hour of screaming, shouting and yelling for help, and no one answered him. It seemed like an hour... Maybe it had been more? Less? He had no idea anymore. Time seemed to stand still in this personal hell of his. The heat had slowly drifted away, to instead be replaced with a bitter coldness that he couldn't ward off. Even though he had long since dried himself, he couldn't help but shiver violently and curl his towel around himself as much as he could. Even though the material was still damp against his skin, it was better than nothing at this point.

His voice was sore and tired from all the yelling and his throat hurt. Maybe that wasn't such a good idea... But then again? What could he do other than that? Wait there until he died of starvation or something? Hell, no one would even find his body until someone finally got worried enough or noticed the smell of a decaying body. They'd find him sitting on the floor of his bathroom, covered up by only a towel.

Oh god.

His far too realistic imagination made him shudder and squeeze his eyes shut in disgust. Yup. He definitely had to get out of here. No matter what. He would _not_ let himself die here of all places.

But, his situation looked grim at best at the moment, anxiety gnawing away at his stomach with its terrible, sickly feeling. Spreading insane ideas and terrifying scenarios that he knew would never play out, but still felt rattled by. Even the echoing acoustics in the bathroom hadn't seem to be enough to catch anyone's attention. His pleas for help had gone unanswered. He didn't know if he simply couldn't be heard, or if his neighbours were just assholes in general, but he had gotten no response. Not even a concerned knock at his front door.

He exhaled slowly, groaning softly on the drawn out breath as he did. He was utterly and royally fucked. He buried his head in his hands, wanting nothing more than to tear out his hair in his desperate, angry frustration. He was almost too lost in his anxious thoughts to hear a soft voice calling out.

_"Hello?"_

He jolted up to his feet as if electrocuted, immediately darting towards the door and slamming his closed fists on it as hard as he could. He almost lost his towel-skirt in the process, but he couldn't care less at the moment. "Hello?!" He shouted back, continuing to shake the door in its hinges, ignoring the sharp pain that it caused his hands every time he banged against the wood. "Hello, is someone there?!" There was a pause that followed his desperate cries, one that made his heart sink into his stomach. Had he... Just imagined it? Honestly, he wouldn't exactly be surprised. It wouldn't be the first time his thoughts and imagination had gotten the best of him-

"Stay calm, I'm here to help. I'm from the fire department."

"Oh thank God." He all but whimpered, relief washing over him like a soothing balm, settling his panic and anxiety to an extent.

"We got a call from your neighbour saying that there's a woman trapped in her bathroom."

His words took a few moments to actually register in his mind, they were just so damn absurd.

_What?_

His mouth dropped open slight, heat spreading through his face as he struggled to find words to accurately portray how he felt at that moment. "Wha-bu... _Hey_!"

Who on earth would call someone for help without actually responding to him first? And who the actual hell would say that he was a woman? I mean, come on. That was absolutely not a mistake that someone can make. Everyone knew everyone who lived on the floor, even if not well at all. But still, who would even think to...

Oh.

Jackson.

That asshole, of course it would be him. Who else would be that much of a dick? Who else would be that willing to humiliate him?

He'd always had a long standing rivalry with the jerk from across the hallway, jabbing at each other verbally and sabotaging each other at every turn. Why exactly? He couldn't really remember, but that's not exactly important right now.

"I'm going to have to break down your door, okay?" The voice finally came again, sounding almost... Amused? He couldn't quite tell though, his words just a tad too muffled to be made out clear enough.

Stiles swallowed his irritation, nodding quickly in agreement to his mystery saviour. Barely a moment later he realized that he could take actually see him doing that. "Yeah, yeah, it's fine!" He called back, feeling even more embarrassment burn through him at his own stupidity.

He winced at the sound of something hard cracking against the front door, internally mourning the fact that he was going to have to pay for the landlord to install a new door after this. Plus probably get a new lock, and have to make copies of the keys to give to others. In fact, he might even have to stay with Scotty for a day while it was happening. Hmm, maybe they could go to the movies or something...

No, wait, focus on the situation at hand.

He ran his hands over his face at the sound of his door breaking and splintering into pieces. Oh, he'd also have to clean everything up afterwards. Couldn't forget about that. The sound of footsteps appeared, coming closer with every passing second.

The stranger was probably looking around his place with judging eyes, but he didn't really care. So what if everything wasn't perfectly neat and tidy? It wasn't like he was expecting anyone over or anything. Or maybe he was judging the salad that he had left out on the counter. So what if he had accidentally forgotten to put it in the fridge after he had eaten?

Or... Maybe his anxiety was just messing with him again.

He flinched at the sharp knock on the door in front of him, ripping him out of his nervous thoughts. "You in here?" His voice was a bit clearer now that he was closer. Deep, but not exactly unpleasant to hear either. Or maybe that was his deliriously relieved brain speaking for him, simply too grateful to think otherwise.

"Yup." He regretted that almost instantly, cringing at himself. _'Yup? Seriously?'_

"Stand back, I'll try to get the door open."

He didn't think twice about stepping away and out of range of any harm. Hopefully, at least. He never really knows, with his luck.

The next thing he knew, the door slammed open with a loud 'bang' and made him jump, almost giving him a heart attack in the process. "Jesus!" He yelped, coming admittedly close to tripping over the floor mat beneath his feet.

"No, not quite."

Stiles looked up quickly, his mystery saviour finally revealed to him.

Oh no.

He's hot.

With strikingly blue eyes, chiseled features and a slight hint of stubble that he found weirdly attractive in a kind of manly, brooding sort of way. He looked like Adonis came to life.

Aaaaand it just hit him that he was practically naked.

He clutched at the towel around his waist and tightened it, ignoring the way his face had obviously flushed red with embarrassment.

"Yeah, I know that, I just meant-" He stopped himself before he started rambling, wanting nothing more than to smack himself for making such a fool of himself.

How the hell had he even ended up in this kind of situation? It just wasn't fair.

His saviour only chuckled in response though, the sound reverberating through his head calmingly. "I'm Derek, by the way. Derek Hale."

He would've stuck out his hand to shake his to be polite, but he didn't want to let go of the towel for even a second. Just in case it... Fell down or something. That was probably the only thing that could make this whole thing worse. And with his luck, it would definitely happen. "Stiles Stilinski." He introduced himself in response, feeling extremely small in comparison to the muscular fireman standing in front of him. That wasn't an entirely unfamiliar feeling, since he was... Yup. He didn't even want to elaborate on those thoughts, already feeling pretty bad about himself for being stupid enough to be in this situation in the first place. "Uhm... Well, thanks for helping me out." He finally continued, a slightly awkward smile flickering over his face. "I think I would've lost my mind if I'd been stuck in here for much longer." He admitted.

"It's not a problem, really." He walked out of the bathroom, followed quickly by Stiles, which felt the insane urge to drop to his knees and kiss the carpeted floor. He was just so sick of staring at that god awful tiled floor back in there. He spotted his phone just where he had left it, along with the heap of clothing that he had previously been wearing. If only he had just taken the stupid things into the bathroom with him, then he could've avoided the awful, awkward situation. Speaking of which, he adjusted the towel again, making sure to keep it well and truly in place.

"Yeah, but still. Thank you. Really." The warm smile he got in return for his words was absolutely worth it, the expression softening his face just a tad bit. When he was smiling he didn't actually seem as brooding and dark as he had previously thought.

"Of course. Helping people is kind of my job, after all." He followed him over towards the smashed in front door, splinters of wood strewn about the place like dirty laundry. "You're going to have to get a new door handle for your bathroom, and a whole new front door, by the way."

Stiles couldn't help the long groan that escaped his lips, rubbing his free hand over his face tiredly. "Yup. Right, right, of course." He stopped at the door frame-the only thing intact about it, praying hard that none of his neighbours would choose to leave their apartment's now of all times.

"It was nice meeting you though," Stiles froze, feeling heat spread through his face and neck when the other man roved his gorgeous eyes along his mostly naked body slowly, clearly checking him out. And not being blatant about it at all. His gaze went back up again to meet his eyes after a few seconds. "Stiles." He gulped at the smirk he was given, only managing to stammer out a flustered goodbye in return as he turned and started walking down the hallway, picking up the axe that had been left leaning against the wall on the way.

To his surprise, he looked over his shoulder, then winked at him before finally disappeared from view.

Holy shit. How the hell did he manage to make that look so sexy? Christ.

He could feel his blood pounding through his ears as he stared after him, still a bit in shock. Did that... Really just happen? Or was this all just a wonderful hallucination? That idea was quickly ripped to shreds when the door opposite his own peaked open a crack and the smug face of his neighbour grinned out at him wickedly. Jackson looked like he was having an absolute ball, seeing him feeling so humiliated.

His blush darkened and he clutched onto the towel around his waist awkwardly, sending him the darkest glare he could muster and flipping him off with his free hand.

He stormed back into his place, unable to take the leering expression of victory for much longer. "Asshole." He scoffed mutinously. He may have won this battle, but Stiles would absolutely win the war.

He paused, eyes catching on to the pack of brightly colored post-it notes on the coffee table that he usually reserved for studying or gathering information. On the top one in thick black marker was unfamiliar hand writing. He blinked owlishly in confusion, approaching the object in questioning warily.

No way.

Was that really...?

He couldn't quite believe his eyes.

_If you ever need me to rescue you again, don't hesitate to call. ;)_

_\- Derek_

Well... At least one good thing came out of this crappy day. 


	3. Damn Right, It's Better Than Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klaus and Dave argue about something extremely important.
> 
> Give or take 2000 words

_My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard_

_And they're like,_ _It's better than yours_

_Damn right, it's better than yours_

_I can teach you, but I have to charge._

 

-

 

"Christ on a cracker, I haven't had one of these in forever! " Klaus flashed a grin at the man sitting on the opposite side of the glaringly red booth. The diner itself was neither full nor empty, but the air still hummed with a soft buzzing of chatter from the other customers. It was a cute place. Extremely different from the usual places he hung out in, that's for sure. Warm, bright, welcoming. It was... Alien. But he liked it. This whole place was like that, in fact. Or rather, this whole _time_.

Even with all the crap going on and the fighting, he hadn't felt this... At peace, in such a long time. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd felt this relaxed. Because even though he had been thrown into the middle of a vicious war, he had found someone worth staying for.

Dave.

The only light in his otherwise miserable life. Well, besides Ben, of course. But even Ben wasn't here now. After all, it was 1968. Ben and the others hadn't even been _born_ yet. And neither had he, if he thought about it. But that train of thought made his brain hurt, so he tended to avoid it.

"Oh yeah?" Said person just smiled at his enthusiastic response. Likely just humouring him. He appreciated it nonetheless. But what could he say? He honestly couldn't remember the last time he had had a milkshake.

Probably when he and his siblings were all rebellious kids, sneaking out when their father told them they were to stay in the Academy. Sure, majority of their childhood they were too scared to venture too far, so they would go to a nearby donut shop to get milkshakes. Well, except for Five. He would always get coffee. No deviations from this unspoken law. Until... He went missing, that is. None of them bothered to go back again after that.

Back then, even though they had been kept under their dad's thumb, they had still been a family. Albeit a very dysfunctional and unconventional family. But they had still done things together. Had fun together. Even Vanya was with them at these times, and he had always loved it.

But the older they got, the more they drifted apart. The rifts between them grew larger. Fights happened more and more. Dad's control over them became more overbearing and suffocating than ever. And after Ben's death... Well, that was a turning point in his life.

"I just think," He looked up again at the sound of Dave's voice, shaking those thoughts away and taking a small sip from his drink.

It came out thick and clumpy and cold through the straw, freezing his tongue and his palate within moments of contact. But oh dear god was it heavenly. The sweetness of the strawberry flavouring bloomed over his taste buds in such a delectable, delightful way.

Now _that's_ a good milkshake. The best he'd ever had. Or maybe he just had terribly low standards. Yeah, that actually sounded just about right.

"That you're crazy."

Klaus paused, green eyes flicking up to look at him curiously. Well of course he was crazy. The dead that had been haunting him all his life had taken care of his sanity years ago. But what made him comment on it?

"Chocolate is so much better than strawberry, you're insane for thinking otherwise."

His eyes narrowed and his lips tilted into a frowny pout, glaring at the other man with the full blown force of a five year old child pretending to be angry. "Those are fighting words, Davey. You know that, right?"

A smile lit Dave's face up at that, the corners of his sparkling blue eyes crinkling slightly. Christ, those eyes. He could stare at them all day and not get bored.

Was that a weird thought? Yeah, it definitely was. But it was true anyway, and he knew it.

"What?" He gave him a look that mirrored his sweet smile. As innocent as an angel, and just as beautiful. "It's the truth."

"No no no, that is _definitely_ not the truth. Strawberry is superior, and that's a fact."

"Oh? And according to who?"

Klaus floundered, gesturing wildly with his hands and mouth agape. "According to me!"

"I don't think that's a valid argument, Klaus." That cheeky little- "You're gonna need some proof."

That got him to fall silent for a few moments petulant moments as he thought of what he could say against him. "Well... The boys prefer my milkshake..." He sulked, folding his arms over his chest and frowning.

Dave tilted his head to the side, a confused smile still on his face. "The boys?"

"Y'know, the..." He paused. "Like the song. The milkshake song." Still silence. He blinked slowly, toying with his straw nervously. "No? It doesn't... Ring a bell or two?" Dave only shook his head though, tilting his head down to take a sip from his chocolate milkshake. But he never took his eyes off of him. He cleared his throat, already knowing what to do to remind him of the iconic song. "My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard, and they're like, it's better than yours." He started singing loudly, swinging his shoulders and moving his hands about in time with his totally-not-off-rhythm-singing. "Damn right, it's better than yours. I could teach you, but I have to charge."

He didn't really care about the fact that he was catching the attention of a few of the other customers, and probably embarrassing himself-well hey, that wasn't exactly a new occurrence. All that mattered was the laugh that his dramatic actions had pulled from Dave's lips, the sound beautiful and sweet.

Christ, his laugh would be the death of him some day. He could call it right now.

"I'm afraid I've never heard that one before." He commented, clearly amused by his dramatic antics.

" _What_?" Klaus gasped, holding a hand over his heart for effect. "You're joking."

"Not at all, sugar."

"Wow." He learned back in his seat, eyebrows raised. Who hasn't heard of _that_ song? It was so damn famous. Hell, it was even a meme. "I can't believe you don't know..." He trailed off, a thought occurring to him.

Oh. Of course.

1968\. It was 1968.

Good god he was dumb. Of course he wouldn't know a song that hadn't even been made yet. Now that he thought about it, it was still going to be a few decades before it was made. He _really_ needed to watch what he said. So far the mistakes he had made were only minor, and Dave just thought it was because he was new to the country, so he never paid much attention to it. At least he was lucky in that aspect. But what if he had... Well, spoiled something major that was going to happen? Ruined the future or something?

"I... I guess it wasn't really as popular as I thought it was." He finally continued with a weak, sheepish smile. It got a returning smile out of his boyfriend in response though, so he counted that as a win.

"I'll have to listen to it one day then. It sounds... Groovy. Weird, but groovy." He decided thoughtfully, an amused look on his face.

"Groovy, baby." He snapped his mouth shut again immediately, feeling his face heat up slightly. Did he really just do that? Oh god, he did. Why the hell did he just quote Austin Powers? And he did it in the accent and everything... He once again felt the temptation to smack himself. What if Dave had thought he was making fun of him?

But, to his immense relief, he just arched an eyebrow curiously, and decided not to comment on it. He took a sip from his milkshake and Klaus followed his lead. He couldn't tell exactly how grateful he was that Dave was used to his weird quirks by now.

"So," He started, looking at him expectantly. "What exactly is it about strawberry milkshakes that makes it so much better?"

"Besides everything?" Klaus responded dryly. This drew a soft snort and an affectionate shake of his head from Dave.

"Yeah, sure. Besides that."

"Well..." He trailed off, mind going blank. Now that he thought about it, he didn't actually have any valid arguments in his favour. It was just what he preferred. "I guess it's the flavour." He shrugged. "It's just so sharp and... I don't know, distinct. Chocolate milkshake is just kinda generic to me at this point. But maybe it's just my-"

He was cut off by a pair of lips pressing against his own, Dave leaning over the table to be able to reach him. Klaus melted into the kiss without hesitation, eyes flickering shut and mouth moving with his in synch. A bit unexpected, but he loved every touch nonetheless. And when he felt his tongue brush over his lip, he wasted no time in opening his mouth to give him more access. He could taste the faint trace of chocolate, but his senses were far too distracted for him to even take notice of it.

Then all too soon he was pulling away again, leaving Klaus hanging and automatically leaning further forwards to try and keep him there. His eyes snapped open and he had to bite his tongue to stop himself from asking why he had stopped.

He just watched him, confused, as he licked his lips, a thoughtful look on his face. There was silence for quite some time, before Dave spoke up again. "Hmm... You're right. Strawberry _is_ pretty good."

His mouth dropped open slightly, an almost stunned, but dumbfounded expression flitting over his face.

Wait. Was _that_ what that was for?

_Oh you sneaky little shit._

His face must've been pretty funny to see though, since Dave burst out laughing when he looked at him again.

"Hey-don't laugh at me!" He protested, more flustered than he would like to admit. "You tricked me!"

He smiled, an amused, but fond look on him. "Did I?" He asked coyly.

"Uhhh, yeah. Yeah you did."

"Oh, well then I'm sooo sorry."

"No you're not." Klaus stuck his tongue out in response to his teasing tone.

A breathy chuckle came from all too kissable lips. "You're right, I'm not." He shrugged, eyes gleaming with something Klaus couldn't quite identify, but was looking more and more familiar with every day that passed. "How about I make it up to you then?"

He arched an eyebrow curiously; a silent 'I'm listening...' that he knew Dave would understand.

His heart picked up in speed when he noticed him moving forward again, eyes automatically closing as he leaned in to meet him halfway.

-

Klaus blinked himself awake, the room blurry around the edges and his head pounding.

Where was he?

And where was Dave?

Oh... Right. How could he forget?

He closed his eyes again, a sigh like exhale escaping his throat.

Dave wasn't here.

Of course he wasn't. But still, images plagued his still fuzzy mind.

The taste of chocolate in his mouth.

A hazy face swirling behind closed eyelids.

Gorgeous blue eyes sparkling at him, affection lying in their depths.

A voice murmuring _I love you's_ when no one else was around to hear them.

All memories of a love that hasn't quite faded yet.

Dave wasn't here.

His eyes prickled, but he willed the tears to go away, hand automatically reaching up to curl his fingers around the dog tags that he refused to take off.

The dream of a relationship that had once been.

The vision of a future that he could've had.

The sight of his true love lying dead in his arms.

All haunting him mercilessly.

 _Dave wasn't here_.

And that was what tore him apart the most.


	4. You Can't Escape Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anti is tired of just being an 'alter ego', and decides to instead run the show. But one thing he wants, more than anything else, is the demon named Dark.
> 
> Give or take 5000 words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a fic that can be seen as being a platonic relationship between both Mark and Seán, and Anti and Dark, or as more than that. So see it however you please.

_The night’s not over yet_

_YOU CAN’T ESCAPE ME_

_You simply can’t forget_

_YOU CAN’T ESCAPE ME_

_The party’s just begun_

_YOU CAN’T ESCAPE ME_

_You can try, it just makes things more fun._

_-_

 

“Where are you?” Mark’s breath hitched at the disembodied voice that echoed around him, constantly changing in pitch and crackling like the sound of static. He pressed himself further into the shadows, blood roaring through his ears and his heart pounding. Loud enough that he thought that that _creature_ could hear it thumping, wherever he was. It was. He didn’t even know anymore. Was that thing his friend, or was it something else entirely? Something monstrous. Nightmarish.

A shaky exhale ghosted out of his lips, and he slid down the wall when his legs couldn’t support him any longer. He wasn’t sure how long this deadly game of cat and mouse had been going on for. Every moment dragged on for a lifetime. What could have been minutes seemed like hours.

“I can hear you, darlin’.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and pulled his knees against his chest, trying his very best to become entirely invisible in the closet that he was hiding in. He could feel some kind of item of clothing brushing against his neck unpleasantly, like a spider crawling over his skin, but he didn’t dare to move even an inch. That creature out there was bluffing, he had to be. There was no way he knew he was there. But still he didn’t dare. Not with his blood ice cold in his veins and his heart in his mouth.

“Wanna come out yet?” A chuckle rasped through the air, a mutilation of a laugh. Of his laugh. And it made him sick to his stomach. “Or shall I just find you myself?” He shuddered, but kept his mouth shut, eyes flickering around desperately, trying to figure out where it was. A soft, silvery light came from outside, sending slivers of soft beams through the cracks in the shutter doors. He wasn’t too sure where the light was coming from-maybe the moon?-but he didn’t care anyway. He squinted a bit, trying to see through the tiny cracks into the outside world. Where was he? The only time he could ever hear where he was, was when he actually spoke up. It just made the tension all the more palpable in the air around him, and made his heart stop every time it appeared again.

“Ohhh, I see.” It purred. His voice a sound that made goose bumps appear on his flesh, screeching like nails on a chalkboard. “You want to play hide and seek, don’t you?” A choked sob escaped his throat, and he lifted his head again, eyes glassy with terrified tears and straining against the darkness of the closet.

A game. This was a game to him.

He tipped his head back, leaning it against the back of the closet. A tear traced its way down his cheek slowly. Why was this happening? _How_ did it even happen? Well, that he already knew to an extent. But there were still enough gaps in his knowledge to make him all the more confused.

What was that thing out there?

-

Mark grinned, a bright and ecstatic look on him. “Seán!” He greeted cheerfully, drawing his Irish friend into a tight hug. This of course made him snort and smack him on the back jokingly with his free hand.

“Careful there, you big lug. You’re gonna squash me.” He huffed out in that prominent accent of his, but the smile on his face under-mimed his sarcastic response entirely.

Mark pulled away, not looking apologetic at all. It had been quite some time since he had last seen him, after all. They had played a few games together recently, but it wasn’t the same as being with him in person. Nothing beat actual face to face human interaction, after all. “Yeah, yeah, sorry.” He stepped back, keeping the door open with an arm. “You need a hand with your stuff?”

“I think I’m good, thanks.” He picked up the large bag that he had been forced to drop when Mark had rushed him, clearly struggling with it a bit. But Mark didn’t try to step in and help. He knew his friend would only get more stubborn the more he asked.

“Are you hungry?” He asked, closing the door again behind him and locking it. Just in time it seemed, since Chica came racing towards them the second it was closed, tail wagging so fast that it looked more like a blur, and her tongue lolling out of her mouth happily. “Wait, Chica-no, wait.” He laughed quietly as his dog snuffled and circled around Jack excitedly, keeping him from being able to move without tripping over her.

“Hiya, girl.” He cooed, once again putting his bag down and going down onto his haunches to be able to pet her properly. He carded his fingers through her fur, a delighted expression visible on his face as they made a fuss over each other.

“I think she missed you.” He commented lightly, watching with unrestrained amusement as his dog settled down on his legs, forcing him to sit down.

“Well of course she did.” He chuckled, finally drawing his eyes back up to look at the other YouTuber. “I’m her favourite person, after all. Isn’t that right, Chica?”

Mark’s eyes narrowed. Oh no he did not. “Excuse you, _I_ am clearly her favourite person.” He argued, puffing up his chest a bit.

“Then why isn’t she over there with you instead?” He arched an eyebrow, a shit eating grin stretching from ear to ear.

How dare he.

“Chica,” He called, pitch raising slightly without really noticing as he patted his hands against his thighs, effectively getting her attention. “Chica, come here, girl. Come here.” She stared at him from her place on Jack’s lap, mouth hanging open as she panted softy. “Come on, Chica, come to Marky.” She didn’t budge. He huffed, a joking frown settling over his features. “Traitor.” He hissed, pointing at her accusingly. She just started wagging her tail cheerfully in response, thumping against Jack every time it did.

“See? I told you so.” He crowed smugly, pale eyes shining with his amusement. But then he just shrugged, still stroking the pet that had made her home on his lap. “Also, to answer your earlier question: No, I’m not hungry. Just a bit tired.”

Right. It had been a long flight for him, and it was already pretty late. The sun had set almost three hours ago, if he was right. He must be exhausted by now.

“Well, the guest room is already set up for you. So you can go sleep now if that’s what you want."

He dipped his head, his relief evident in the way he let his shoulders drop tiredly. Now that he thought about it, he _could_ see dark circles beneath his eyes. It made him wonder when the last time he slept was. But when he flashed him a small, grateful smile, he held his tongue. He didn’t want to make him more stressed than he already was. “Thanks, Mark.”

“It’s no problem. You know you’re always welcome here.”

-

“Come out, come out, wherever you are.” The sing-song voice came along again. But instead of one voice, it was many voices, overlapping and fighting against each other with their own tone and pitch. A thousand voices that continuously changed and frizzled like the sound of static. It almost hurt his ears to hear it.

It sounded like he was getting closer. That thought alone made him curl up further into himself and clutch onto his arms. If he found him… He honestly didn’t know what would happen. He just knew that it wouldn’t be good.

“Oh, come on, at least tell me if I’m getting warmer.” He whined. “You’re being a bit unfair.”

He almost let out a noise of disbelief. He-It was complaining. _Complaining._ Like a petulant child. It just reminded him far too much of the person that the thing was pretending to be. Pretending, because he refused to believe that he was the same person. That that creature out there was his friend. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t…

Could it?

No.

That thing out there was _not_ Seán.

-

It was sometime during the night that he was woken up by a strange sound. For someone who was usually quite the heavy sleeper, it was rather surprising that he had roused from his rest because of it at all. But he did, and while he was surfacing from his deep sleep, he became aware of a weird noise coming from besides his bed. He grunted and rolled over onto his side, reaching a hand up to rub the sleep from his eyes. His dark room came in a blur of shadows through his bleary vision, so the bright green light that shone from the phone sitting on the bedside table caught his attention almost immediately. He groaned his disappointment at being woken up because of such a dumb reason but didn’t try to just go back to sleep just yet. He pushed himself up until he was sitting, a large yawn stretching at his jaws.

He took his phone, internally swearing that he had switched it off before he had gone to bed. But then again, it was on, so he must have been wrong. He blinked slowly, still not seeing clearly just yet. But through hazy eyes, he could make out two green words that glared up from the black screen. The words itself must have been the cause of the light, since they were weirdly bright. Bright enough that they were lighting up the entire room with only a few letters.

“Missed me?” Mark murmured, reading them aloud. Missed who exactly? And how on earth was this happening to the phone? Well… That was puzzling. He pressed the screen a few times, but it didn’t change at all. He pressed the off button, but that also did nothing. “My phone must be busted…” He sighed, about to put his phone back down again, when the words started flickering and spasming across the screen. Almost like it was glitching out. He watched it carefully, eyebrows drawing together in confusion. “Wh…?”

The door to his bedroom let out a low, ominous squeal as it swung open slowly, making Mark jump and shoot his attention to the doorway, his breath catching in his throat. Playing Five Nights at Freddy’s and so, so many horror games had taught him a thing or two about things that go bump in the night, so he knew exactly what a door opening by itself meant. And it was nothing good. It was too dark to see past the doorway, but still he was squinting. And waiting.

He was fully prepared to throw himself out of bed and make a wild break for it, but then someone familiar stepped through the door, and he couldn’t help but let out an incredibly relieved, almost delirious sounding laugh. So not some murderous animatronics, great.

“Jesus, Seán. You almost gave me a heart attack.” He said, still squinting a bit to see him properly. It was still too dark to see him perfectly clearly, but he could see well enough to be able to identify his friend. He was standing dead still in front of his door, face hidden in the dark shadows of the house. “What are you doing up? Is something wrong?” Seán didn’t answer him though. He just stood there. Unmoving. Staring. It was honestly a bit… Creepy. It made Mark squirm slightly. “Is there… something you want to tell me, or…?” He blinked.

Mark jolted and gasped his surprise, eyes going wide and mouth dropping open when he disappeared from the doorway.

Impossibly, Seán stood next of his bed now. Barely a metre away from him.

What… How had he…?

Now that he was closer, he could see him a bit more clearly. The light from his phone gave his skin an odd green tint, and almost made his eyes look like they were glowing. Or at least, it did with the one eye. The other eye seemed to be hidden by a shadow. He held a kitchen knife loosely in one hand, and he could vaguely see something dark lining the blade.

The most sickening thing about him, however, was the gruesome slash across his throat. The large cut was bleeding profusely, dripping down his neck and soaking through his shirt, staining it a bright red. It was a violent and grotesque gash that made him want to retch. But despite the wound that should have been fatal, he was still standing, looking as though nothing was wrong.

“Oh my god.” He breathed, feeling nausea well up inside him. “Oh my god, Seán, we-we need to get you to a hospital-"

“Seán isn’t here.”

His blood went cold.

That wasn’t his voice.

It was his face. His body. It was _him._ But also not him at the same time.

Was it an impostor of some sort? He didn’t know it could be possible, but that’s what it seemed like.

The impostor-it _had_ to be one, right? -slowly tilted his head to the side, a twisted grin stretching across his face. Mark’s knuckles had turned white from the pressure as he clutched onto his blanket. He pressed backwards as the other took a step towards him, only to find his back against the wall. He flinched when he raised the knife, the blade gleaming in the green light.

“Wait wait wait, Seán, hang on a moment, just-just-wait-” He stammered, scrambling out from beneath the covers and across the bed, putting some distance between them. When he wobbled a bit unsteadily, he pressed his hand against the wall for extra balance, never once taking his eyes off of him. “Just put the knife down, we can-we can talk about this, Seán.” He tried to keep some semblance of calm to his voice, but he just couldn’t manage to do so. Instead his words shook with his anxiousness. He wouldn’t actually hurt him… Would he? Well he knew that Seán wouldn’t, but would whoever this was?

“Didn’t you hear me?” His voice twisted and morphed unpleasantly, a faint sound of static buzzing through his words in a way that couldn’t really be possible. One moment it was one voice, and the next another. “He’s not here anymore.”

He swallowed thickly; trying his best to keep his rising fear at bay. He didn’t know if he really wanted an answer to the question lingering on the tip of his tongue. But it had to be asked. “Then… Then who are you?”

A smile stretched over his face. One that looked so familiar, yet so unnatural at the same time. White teeth flashed in the darkness, and he caught a glimpse of sharp canines. Abnormally sharp.

“You may know me as Anti.”

Anti.

Antisepticeye?

“Oh my god. _Anti_? Seriously?” Mark’s eyebrows furrowed together into a slightly irritated frown and he exhaled, allowing himself to relax. “You’re kidding me, Seán. You’re actually joking. Wow.” His arm dropped and he folded them over his chest, all but glaring at his friend. “You really had me going there for a while. Are you filming this? Is that what this is? This is kinda a dick move, you know. How did you even get that wound to look so realistic?”

A flash of silver was the only warning he got in response, and he barely managed to throw himself backwards in time for the knife to come plunging down where his legs had just been, a small cry of shock escaping his lips. The weapon plunged into the mattress, tearing through the fabric easily.

“Jesus, Seán!” He gasped, eyes blown wide as he continued to push himself back, only stopping when his hands felt the edge of the bed. “What the hell are you doing?!”

Seán looked up at him from where he was kneeling on the bed. While the grin had remained on his face, there was a colder, more dangerous edge to his expression now, his hand still wrapped tightly around the knife that had come all too close for comfort to hitting him. “Oh, this is no joke, Mark.” He pulled the weapon out of the bed slowly, adjusting the position he had on it. The once white mattress was now flecked with red, and only then did he realize that the knife was practically covered in blood. _Who’s_ blood though? “Did you really think that I was just an act? Well I’m about as real as your better half is, doll.” He couldn’t help but shudder and lean back slightly as he shifted closer. That feeling of dread had come back again in full force. He tilted his head to the side and, at the much shorter distance between them now and despite the darkness, he could see that his other eye had never been hidden in the shadows. It was just entirely black. The iris, the sclera, everything. It was like looking into a bottomless pit. “Speaking of… Where is he?”

“He…? Who?” He couldn’t help but whisper, his voice almost failing him.

“You know who.” He lifted the knife and Mark automatically shrank back, watching unblinkingly as he raised it again. “Now, are you going to let him out? Or do I have to force him out?”

“What are you… What are you talking about? Seán, please, just-”

“ _I’m not him!_ ” He snarled like a raging beast, lunging at him with the bloodied knife.

Mark jerked back so fast that he tipped right over the edge of the bed. He slammed into his side on the ground and immediately scrambled to his feet again. He didn’t look back even once as he fled from the room, breaths coming in gasps and heart pounding like a jackhammer in his chest. He could hear raucous laughter following his frantic retreat. It only made him run faster.

“I’m coming for you, Marky!”

He shivered at the echoing voice, all but slamming into a wall as he tried to turn a corner. He had to get out of there. He had to… He had to find help. Get Chica and find help.

Chica. Where was Chica? Had he done anything to her? Oh god, he hoped not. He didn’t know what he would do if he did.

“Chica!” He called as loud as he dared, which was barely above a whisper. He just hoped that she could hear him. “Chica! Come here, girl!” There was no response from his pet. His stomach sank.

Changing his course of action at no sign of her, he turned on his heel and started running again, trying his best to weave around the furniture in the darkness. Occasionally he would ram into something, and each time he had to bite back a curse, especially when it made a noise. Every sound alerted that creature-that’s what he had to be-to where he was.

He sprinted to the front door, grabbing the keys that lay on the cabinet. He fumbled with the keys, trying to get the correct one, but his shaking hands only made it more difficult. He squinted in the darkness, becoming more and more desperate when he couldn’t find the right one. It was gone.

“What…” He breathed, jiggling the handle urgently in a vain attempt to open it. “No, no, no…”

“Are you trying to escape?” He whirled around, pressing his back against the door. It felt almost freezing cold against his back, but he took little notice of it. Not with his eyes trained on the man- _thing_ in front of him. His green eye almost glowed in the darkness, shining like a beacon. Seán- _Anti_ tilted his head to the side, looking almost… Pitying as he watched him. Pitying, but fascinated at the same time. Like he was studying some kind of specimen. It made his skin crawl. He looked at him expectantly, but Mark couldn’t find any words to answer him. “That’s just silly. After all, I’ve got the key.” He held out his other hand, revealing the key to his freedom.

Mark swallowed thickly, feeling his heart drop. That was his only way out, and he had it. He wouldn’t be able to get it back; he knew that already. But what else could he do? He was cornered. The other way out was the garage door, but he had the key for that too. The only thing he could think of doing was breaking a window. But with the dining room table being the only thing standing between them, he didn’t know if he would get the chance to do that.

Anti started walking towards him, allowing the knife to drag along the table. He clearly had a sense for dramatics. And even though that thought would have made him amused, had he been in any other situation, it only made him more anxious.

He darted forward and grabbed the closest chair to him. Before he could think of a better idea, he heaved it across the table and right at the thing. He didn’t wait to see if it hit him or not, he just started to run. But from the surprised noise and the crashing sounds that had come from behind him, he assumed that it had. He didn’t know where he was headed, he just knew that he had to run. To hide. Something.

“You can’t escape me, Mark!” The voice came crackling after him. “You can _never_ escape me!”

-

Mark rubbed his hands over his face, wiping away the tear tracks in the process. He couldn’t hear him anymore. He had stopped talking almost ten minutes ago, if he guessed right. So now he just sat there in silence, hoping, praying that he would lose interest and leave. Somehow, he doubted he would though. He shifted, getting onto his knees slowly. He winced every time he rustled the clothes around him. But luckily it didn’t make much noise when he did. That was one thing he could feel thankful for.

He leaned forward, peering through a crack in the shutters. The room was silent and still. Nothing out of place. He squinted his eyes, trying to see if he could figure out where it was. He? It? He wasn’t all too sure, and he didn’t care about that enough to think it through.

An all too familiar figure walked into view suddenly, drawing a soft gasp out of him unintentionally. He immediately shot his hand up and slapped his palm over his mouth; an attempt to muffle any other sounds he would unwittingly make.

But the damage was already done.

He watched in horror as the thing slowly turned around to look at the closet he was in. A smile appeared on his face again and he started walking towards him.

_‘Oh god, please no.’_

“There you are, darlin’.”

He shrank back, trying to make himself as small as possible, when the door slammed open and a hand grabbed at him, yanking him forward and out of the safety of his closet. He found himself face to face with Anti not a moment later, eyes wide and face ashen.

“I told you I’d find you.” He looked smug. Maybe even a bit excited. But he couldn’t really bring himself to focus on that, instead finding himself more concerned with the fact that the slender fingers wrapped around his throat were close to cutting off his oxygen supply.

He gasped desperately for breath, clawing at the hand. But he didn’t seem to budge at all, no matter how hard he tried to pry the fingers away. “Wait, wait, please-” He stammered over his words in his hurry to try and reason with the thing that had him in its near superhuman grip. “Se-Anti, please!” He interrupted himself before he could completely make that mistake again. But by the way Anti’s eyes narrowed, he knew that he had caught his almost slip up.

“You’re starting to irritate me now, Mark.” He chastised him. His voice was painful to hear at such close proximity, and he couldn’t help but cringe and try to pull away. He held fast though, not allowing him an inch of leeway. “Now let him out. Before I get angry.”

“I don’t-” He wheezed, still squirming in his grasp. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please, just let me go.”

A snarl twisted across his face and, before he knew what was happening, he was being slammed backwards and into the closest wall. He hissed out an exhale from between gritted teeth, the back of his head and shoulders aching from the blow. He was given no time to recover though, the hand around his throat tightening painfully.

“Don’t play dumb with me!” He snapped, bringing their faces close again and baring his teeth in a way that was more animal than man. “I. Want. Dark.”

_Dark?_

He’s insane. He’s _actually_ insane. “Dark…” He managed to choke out, still scratching at his fingers, even if it was futile. “He’s-He’s not real. He’s just-He’s just a character. Dark doesn’t exist.”

“ _Shut up_!” His vision went spotty as his head cracked back against the wall again, a choking sound-one that he didn’t even realize was coming from him at first-spilt from his lips. His head throbbed from what had to by now be at least some sort of head trauma. He didn’t know how he was strong enough to throw him about like a rag doll, but he was. That was blaringly obvious. “Just shut up and give me him!”

He couldn’t help the whimper that escaped his mouth when the creature brought the knife into full view. Wide eyes tracked the knife that he had forgotten about until now; watching, terrified, as he brought the bloodied knife towards his face.

He shuddered and tilted his head away when he felt the cold blade press against his cheek. Something sticky trickled onto his face from the knife. Blood.

“Dark,” He murmured, for once his voice sounding like it could _possibly_ be normal, the erratic noises that echoed along each word disappearing. Soft in a way that he could never have imaged Anti being. It was… Unnerving. Completely unnerving, especially with the knife that he was slowly trailing down the side of his face. Light enough that he knew it probably wouldn’t cut him, but still hard enough that it stung and made his breath catch in his throat. “Come on out, darlin’. I know you’re in there.”

Mark’s tongue flickered out to wet his lips, catching Anti’s mismatched eyes in his own. Despite how absolutely terrified it made him feel and the glowing green that pierced through his entire being, he forced himself to keep holding his gaze. “Seán, please, I know you’re in there.” He got out, voice sounding croaky even to his own ears. Well it was no wonder, really, seeing as he was being _strangled_. Anti’s eyes narrowed furiously, but he rushed on. “Please, you have to fight him, Seán-”

A strangled noise choked from him when his iron hold on him tightened even further, his oxygen cut off entirely now. He scratched at the death grip on his throat, gasping and gulping for a breath that he couldn’t quite reach, panic making his movements desperate and his chest hitch hysterically. He could feel the pressure build up in his head painfully the longer he fought for his breath. The sound of his heart beating sluggishly and his blood roaring through his ears was so loud that he almost couldn’t hear it when Anti started to speak again, despite being face to face with him.

“Stop being so stubborn. Mark. Just let go.” His words were barely above a whisper, and Mark had more than a hard time trying to understand what he was saying. Was that ringing in his ears because of his glitching out voice, or some other reason? He couldn’t quite figure it out. Not with his lungs on fire and his vision starting to go black around the edges. “Let him out!”

His struggles for air slowly started to die down the longer he held on for, mouth still moving sluggardly in a silent, instinctual plea for breath, but his body feeling too heavy to even continue moving. Through blurred and darkening vision, he could see the seething expression that marred Anti’s face, his contradictory eyes both painfully bright and menacingly dark at the same time. For a moment, his thoughts wandered to the person that those eyes had once belonged to. Then everything went dark and his thoughts were no more.

-

Anti glared, enraged as the human in his grasp went still and limp and his eyes slid shut, his struggles ceasing.

 _‘Mark!’_ A disgustingly familiar voice howled in his ears, sounding both wrathful and distraught at the same time, and causing him to flinch from the unexpected outburst from the person that had once been his host. He wrinkled his nose, trying to shut out the multiple threats and curses that Seán was screaming at him in his mind.

Something strong clamped onto his wrist and his gaze snapped down, surprised, only to be met with an icy glare. Mark’s hand gripped onto his arm and he watched, admittedly a bit stunned, as the human managed to slowly forced his hand away from his throat in a way that Anti was sure should painful for him. But if it did hurt, he didn’t show it in the slightest, his expression blank enough that it made Anti rather uneasy. He grimaced when the pressure on his wrist increased to the point where he wouldn’t be surprised if the bone started to fracture, by now unable to pull his own hand away. Mismatched eyes flashed back up to see the darkened eyes of someone who he now realized was most _definitely_ not Mark.

He swallowed thickly as he slowly got to his feet, something akin to excitement buzzing through him like an electric shock. It was him. Finally. Finally, he was out.

“Dark.” He breathed, a grin lighting up his face.

The other demon finally let go of his wrist to instead straighten his t-shirt. Such a mundane item of clothing that Anti would’ve never thought he would see on him, but here he was. He brushed some imaginary lint off of the shirt, an imperfection that Anti couldn’t actually see, but didn’t comment on anyway. The already dark room looked even darker than before, casting shadows across his face where there shouldn’t be.

Eventually he looked up again, looking far more composed than he could ever recall Mark being. They looked at each other for a while, both silent. The one studying the smaller demon with a cold, impassive gaze, and the other waiting eagerly for something-anything at all.

Anti shifted after some time, starting to get impatient when the silence extended for longer than he was happy with, his smile turning into something more like a scowl. “Well?” He demanded, irritated that he was getting no response. “Say something!” The quiet lingered for a few moments longer despite his command, hanging tense and heavy over them, and making his skin prickle unnervingly.

He opened his mouth, about to speak up again, but this time Dark beat him to it. “Anti.” He finally regarded the other simply, deep voice echoing like there were multiple versions of him hiding in the shadows that seemed to draw into him. Now that he noticed it, the darkness did look like it was stretching out towards him, reaching for him with their tendrils.

He shivered at the sound of his name on his tongue, positively glowing from the recognition. For once he remained silent though, waiting for the next words to come out of his mouth with a breathless sort of anticipation.

“So you want to play, hmm?” Dark spread his arms out, arching an eyebrow in a detached, yet vaguely annoyed way. “Well here I am. So let’s play."


End file.
